If you’ve been to Japan, you may have been asked these questions:
“Can you use chopsticks?!”
“Can you eat raw fish?!”
They’re always asked with a fair amount of incredulity, like there is no way it is even possibly possible that somebody who is not Japanese (or Asian, I suppose) can use chopsticks or eat raw fish.
I don’t get it. I mean, sure, I didn’t grow up using chopsticks to eat, and I still get a little cramp in my hand when I use them for a long time, but I can get by pretty well. I even used to cook with them, just like the Japanese. Whenever I was asked the chopsticks question, I was always kind of like–Uh, literally billions of people use chopsticks every day. So, um, yeah, I can use chopsticks.
The raw fish one is trickier, but I’m not going to spit it out and curse the Japanese for their tradition of uncooked food just because I’m white. You know, sushi and sashimi are very popular around the world. But, again, yeah, I can eat raw fish, especially if I’ve ordered it. And I can enjoy it.
I’ve touched on this before, but the Thai equivalent of the chopsticks or raw fish question is:
“Can you eat spicy food?!”
Lovely, sweet, amazing Thai people: You are not the only people in the world who can eat spicy food. I thank you for your concern, but I will be fine.
If I had been asked this only once or twice, I might put it off as an anomaly, but it happens all the time. All. The. Time.
A typical conversation might go like this:
Me, in Thai, pointing to something because I don’t know the name of it, but I want to stuff it in my face and eat it: That, please.
Person, in English: Spicy! (If they can’t say this in English, they will find somebody who can tell them how to say it in English.)
Me, in Thai: Okay. I can eat spicy.
Person, in English or Thai at this point: Spicy! Very spicy!
Me, in Thai: Okay. I CAN eat spicy.
Person, in English or Thai, and gesturing that if I eat this food I might have a mouth heart attack and spontaneously combust and die a slow, painful death by chili right in front of them, which would really be a nuisance: VERY spicy! (p.s. “Death By Chili” would be a good band name OR murder-mystery book title.)
Me, in Thai, starting to lose my patience and gesturing back very emphatically that if I don’t get some food somebody’s going to get cut: OKAY. I CAN EAT SPICY.
They give me my food, totally doubting that I will be able to handle the spice. And, I’ll be honest, Thai food is often spicy. Very spicy, even. It’s the truth. But the normal things I order aren’t so spicy that I have a problem with them. My nose runs a little bit and my lips burn for a few minutes, but that’s about it.
When I was in Phitsanulok last week, I went out for lunch every day with a group of Thai people. The first day we went out to lunch, they asked me, “Can you eat spicy food?”
“Yes, I can. No problem!” Smiley face.
“A little spicy?” This is another typical follow-up question.
“No, it’s okay. Thai spicy is okay!” Then I always try to make the same pathetic joke. “I’m strong!”
Everybody laughed at this point, but clearly they didn’t believe me. They ordered regular food, without concern for the spice, but then watched me the entire time for signs of mouth heart attack or spontaneous combustion. Throughout the whole meal, they would point to things and say, genuinely concerned, “Very spicy!”
I’m proud to say I was fine. Even their very sweet concerns about stomach problems in the morning were unfounded. For the most part, I’ve moved past that.
When I first arrived in Thailand in August, I had to get used to all the hot food. I’m from the Midwest. The spiciest food we have out there is Taco Bell’s Fire Sauce, which is to spicy what Thai “winters” are to real winters.
I had to power through the pain and the mouth burning and the tears (literally) and the stomach (ahem) problems the morning after when I first got here. It took me a week or two of hardcore chili pepper training, but I made it through to the other side victorious.
Now I’m afraid I’m a spice junkie. I put chilies or hot sauce on virtually everything I eat, and I have to keep ramping it up to notice anything. If you eat a lot of really spicy food, you get a pretty big rush, apparently from (WARNING: Science stuff coming up) endorphins kicking it to stave off the pain.
But I keep thinking (and don’t tell me if you’ve heard this one before, because I already know I’m repeating myself) about what the equivalent to the chopsticks, raw fish, or spicy food question would be in Western countries.
My examples aren’t as satisfying, though, because some of the examples I could think of are really gross and (to me) bizarre food that I wouldn’t eat unless I was starving, and even then I might think two or even three times before I put it in my mouth.
In France, you could ask: “Can you eat stinky cheese?” (I LOVE stinky cheese. The stinkier the better, actually.)
In Germany: “Can you eat sauerkraut?” (Yeah, sometimes.)
In Australia: “Can you eat Vegemite?” (Somehow I’ve managed never to have tried it.)
In England: “Can you eat blood pudding?” (GROSS. NO. WHY IS THIS A THING?)
In Argentina: “Can you eat blood sausage and innards?” (AGAIN, STOP THE INSANITY. True story: I stopped eating meat for several years after I saw somebody eat blood sausage.)
In the United States: “Can you eat ridiculously large portions of really greasy food?” (Uh, remember how I said I grew up in the Midwest? Also, half my family is Ukranian, and as a people we’re not exactly known for health food.)
Eating Spicy Food: 0 Megan: 1
Yeah, Spicy Food, take that! I’ve heard that food in the south of Thailand is crazy hot even for Thailandians, so I’ll be interested to take up that challenge soon. And I’ll be honest, I did have something called jungle curry last week, which made my mouth really angry at me. I lost some major street cred at that point, because I was hurting bad. Still, for the most part, I’m fine (Ed note: She is so old now she has to take heart burn medicine to make it okay).